Classic Poem

Its masts of might — its sails so free —
Had borne the scatheless keel
Through many a day of darkened sea,
And many a storm of steel;
When all the winds were calm, it met
(With home-returning prore)
With the lull
Of the waves
On a low lee shore.

The crest of the conqueror
On many a brow was bright;
The dew of many an exile's eye
Had dimmed the dancing sight;
And for love and for victory,
One welcome was in store —
In the lull
Of the waves
On a low lee shore.

The voices of the night are mute
Beneath the moon's eclipse;
The silence of the fitful flute
Is in the dying lips! —
The silence of my lonely heart
Is kept for evermore —
In the lull
Of the waves
On a low lee shore!